August 2001

Reflections of a funeral

Dear Friends,

I just returned a while ago from a funeral. A brother and sister, ages 20 and 18, were found murdered near a school on January 1, about two miles from where we live. It’s not a bad area. They were walking to the home of their aunt, with whom they were spending the holidays, about 5:30 in the morning. They had called her to tell her they were on their way, and she said she would come and pick them up, but they said no, "It’s such a beautiful day we want to walk—we’ll see you in just a while."

Their bodies were found hours later, lying next to each other, both shot in the head. As the news got out several calls came in to the police from others who had seen or been accosted that morning in the same area by a man wielding a gun. A composite picture has lead to the pursuit of a suspect who, at this time, has not been caught, but is well known in certain circles in town.

The parents, an Anglican pastor and his wife from Cape Town, were, naturally, pursued by the media for their reaction on their arrival in Pietermaritzburg. A picture of them in our local paper with the mother’s sister, the children’s local aunt, and their comments were stirring. With red rimmed but clear eyes they spoke of these, their only children, as gifts from God who had been taken from them but were now at peace in the arms of Jesus. They felt no anger or bitterness for what had happened or toward the man who had committed this crime, and even expressed some consternation that the deaths of their two children had created such a strong stir of media attention. Were not others in our country, province, city, being brutally murdered every day? Were they not like many other parents or families who have been confronted with the unexpected loss of loved ones?

Why was their situation so different?

An article I read in December stated that—and I believe I have this right because I too had a hard time believing it—over 800 people were murdered in politically related violence in the province of Kwa-Zulu Natal last year. So yes, many families have been affected, including my friend Lulu in Richmond, who lost one son in violence in 1991 and another one last July. And only a week ago the wife of one of AE’s gardeners was notified that her son and his girlfriend were murdered in the Eastern Cape area.

So what stands out so about these murders and this family? These kids were seemingly selected at random and for no particular reason. They were walking at a time and in a place where violent acts aren’t expected. They were found on the grounds of one of the best schools in town. And this took place at the outer edge of the town center, bordering on the housing areas—in a "nice" part of the city. Completely unexpected. A real shocker. And completely out of a context for this area. How does one make sense of it?

Back to the funeral. What stood out so powerfully to me—and brought back the recollection of another situation about 10 years ago that had a tremendous impact on my life and my ultimate decision to commit my life to the God that could instill this in a person’s life—was the serenity, peace, acceptance, strength and (yes!) joy that permeated the lives of these parents as they honored the lives of their children at this, their funeral. Unbelievable!

How can this be? I watched the father in awe as he publicly thanked those attending, honoring and comforting us instead of the other way around; singing with vigor and nodding in agreement to scriptures read and words said; bowing in a prayer of goodbye, releasing his children and everything surrounding this time back to God, with no apparent sign of sadness or regret. Where does this kind of expression of faith and certainty come from? One thinks of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac, giving him back to God and trusting that God’s plan would be for good. Such strength and trust and grace are not "normal." What would be "normal" is anger, bitterness, the circular questioning of "why?" and the pain to the very core of one’s being, even a sense of part of one’s self dying with that loved one. But this?

I was struck another time in a similar way about 10 years ago, when I went to England to visit my cousin and her husband after the loss of their only child, a son, in a climbing accident. I went hoping I could give them some relief by taking care of some things around the house or yard for a few weeks and just being there to help as I could. Little did I know they would give me more than I had ever imagined.

One night they told me what had happened, from the time Mark had left for the weekend, to the call telling them of his death, to their reaction (Dorothy’s question to Hans was, "What do we do?" "We pray," was his immediate response.) and then the funeral itself. I was so amazed that they could speak so openly and lovingly about this son that they would never see again, the one for whom they had such hopes and dreams, whose body they had buried only weeks before.

As we laughed and shed a few tears in these days, I couldn’t help but wonder how they had managed to adjust so quickly and so well, and in such a "healthy" way, to such a tremendous loss. Knowing that Hans, the father, had spoken at Mark’s funeral, I just had to know, "How could you manage to do it?" I, who have never even had children, could not imagine how a parent could have the composure and strength to share so openly at the funeral of one’s child. And I will never forget his response, as he looked at me from across the table with a bit of a quizzical look. "Mark would have wanted me to. How could I not honor him in that way?"

Whew!

Where does such strength, serenity, peace, openness, love, gentleness and certainty come from? Now I know, though that’s not to say I would certainly respond as both these families have to such tragedies. I can only hope I would, because what they have reflected by their actions are the intrinsic characteristics of Jesus, the God they love and serve—the same One I do. But what struck me this time was that it is when we are placed in times of trial or testing that one’s faith, one’s true level of maturity in our Lord is revealed. But that maturation is a process of learning, believing, trusting, and obeying that becomes part of our person over time. Like with a sport we want to excel in, we commit to it, are disciplined in our learning and practicing of it until it comes naturally to us. But we only see where we really are in the process when we’re put to the test in a race, a match or a game.

Seeing the strength and maturity of the relationship of the Wilmot family with their personal Savior encouraged me immensely. Who they are and how they have responded to this tragedy isn’t "normal" by human standards, but it’s certainly what I would like my life to be like in the end.

Blessings and love to you all,

Cindy Easterday

The Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 47